


Under the Black

by ToBebbanburg



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: I want her here, M/M, Pirate porn, Thanks Guys, Threesome - M/M/M, Top!Nicky, aka the best sort, because people seem to be on board with this, because very little works out for these guys in this, but its just a whole load of porn, but like attempted threesome, but mentions of Top Joe, more pirates, or anne as shes called in this if you didn't read my other pirate fic, quynh is still here in this because even though I feel she got lost before the golden age of piracy, side andy:quynh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:35:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25530703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToBebbanburg/pseuds/ToBebbanburg
Summary: This is just "5 times Joe and Nicky tried to fuck and 1 time they finally managed it" but it's pirates. I mean you try having sex as your ship gets pulled into a hurricane. It's not going to happen, sorry boys.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 83
Kudos: 284





	1. The British (Damn Them)

Being a pirate suited Nico, Joe thought. He had seen his lover in the fashions of many different times and places but this, this was by far his favourite. It was the way his hair was just about long enough to tie back, the shorter strands always coming loose to hang around his face in a way that would have looked messy on anyone else, but handsome on him. It was the way he shed his waistcoat and unlaced the top of his shirt in an attempt to cool down in the sweltering Caribbean heat. It was the way his belts and bandoliers crisscrossed over each other and drew Joe’s eyes in a zigzag up and across his body, ending at the single gold hoop in his ear. The early 18th century was proving to have got many things very very wrong, but the clothes it had almost certainly got right.

“When you said you wanted to draw me, I had assumed I would be wearing fewer layers.” Nico’s voice pulled Joe out of his thoughts.

They were having a rare quiet moment in the cabin they both shared. It was slightly too small to accommodate both of them, but they had both long since decided they’d rather cope with cramped quarters than sleep in separate rooms. Joe was sat at the small table, sketching away as Nico lay on the bed for him. It had taken a while for Joe to get used to drawing at sea, and his first attempts had resulted in many crumpled pieces of paper thrown angrily onto the floor as unexpected waves caused his charcoal to skid across the paper in messy lines. There was still the occasional stray line or smudge, but Joe had come to appreciate them. They were marks of the sea, an entity that could switch from calm and peaceful to vicious and deadly in an instant. Just like his Nicolò.

“Perhaps after I’ve finished this one.” Joe replied with a smile. “Besides, I rather like you in that shirt.”

“Oh?” Nico arched an eyebrow and shifted slightly, letting the neck of his shirt fall open a little bit more. “Then I shall leave it on. For now.”

“Grazie.”

Joe carried on with his sketch, swept up in the beauty of the man before him. He was so focused on Nico’s face and chest that at first he didn’t notice Nico’s hand slowly moving downwards to untie his trousers.

“Nicolò, stop fidgeting.” Joe chastised, only vaguely aware that Nico was moving.

“I just thought I’d give you something more exciting to draw.”

Joe finally shifted his attention away from Nico’s chest, and realised he had released his cock from his breeches and was slowly stroking it into hardness. Nico’s touch was steady, languid almost, and he had that damned smirk of his on his face. The smirk that said he knew it was only a matter of time before any resolve Joe had crumbled and gave him everything he wanted.

“The best of both worlds, no?” Nico asked him, giving up all pretence of trying to maintain his pose as he pulled his breeches down a bit further, allowing him to cup his balls as he worked his cock.

Joe’s throat went dry, and he quickly swapped the paper he had been working on for a fresh sheet. Just a quick sketch. Something so he could remember the wonderful sight in front of him.

“You are right as usual, habibi.” He said softly, his fingers dancing across the paper as he drew several fluid lines to capture the scene.

It was by no means as detailed as the drawing he had been working on before: Joe was growing increasingly aware of the heat pooling in his groin, of his heartbeat quickening with every stroke of the charcoal, and he worked quickly so he could sooner focus on the living, breathing art lying in his bed.

Nico was moaning slightly by the time he finished and tossed his paper aside, the Italian’s hips lifting off the bed in time with his strokes. Joe left his chair and crept forward, dropping to his knees by the bed.

“Allow me.” He murmured, replacing Nico’s hand on his cock with his own. He stroked him slowly, his other hand trailing up Nico’s chest, bunching the fabric of the shirt up. He leant forward and kissed Nico’s exposed stomach, sucking bruises into his skin that disappeared as fast as he could bring them to the surface.

He had just started to pick up the pace when someone banged on their cabin door.

“Ship! Ship on the horizon!”

Joe groaned and stood up as the banging continued, making his way over to open the door as Nico pulled a blanket over himself.

“We’re at sea, there’s bound to be ships on the horizon.” He said when he opened the door. Jim, the ship’s boy, had been knocking so frantically he accidentally landed a few blows on Joe’s chest before he could stop himself. The poor lad looked terrified.

“British colours. Man o’ war Quynh reckons. Trouble. Cap’n wants you on deck.” He panted.

Joe groaned again and closed the door slightly, giving Nico enough privacy to get out of bed and dressed again.

“Tell her we’ll be right up.” He said, giving Jim enough time to nod that he understood before stepping back into the cabin and pushing the door shut. Nico already had his trousers back up and was checking the barrels of his pistols.

  
“Do you think we’ll fight? Or run?” Nico asked.

  
“Run, I hope.” Joe said as he strapped his sword to his belt. “I’d rather not lose my drawings to cannon fire. Again.”


	2. The Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joe is ready to throw hands with the weather in this one.

The worst part of life at sea was the storms. The weather seemed to turn in an instant: sunny and calm with barely a cloud in the sky one minute, thunder and lightning and waves several times the height of their ship the next. The Siren was a good ship, sleek and fast, but even she couldn’t outrun a storm the size of the one that was currently moving towards them.

  
“Stow the sails!” Anne shouted as Quynh wrestled desperately with the wheel. “All hands, stow the sails!”

  
The crew moved in sync, each sailor running to their posts as the wind picked up and the rain came down harder and harder. Storms were deadlier than the pirate hunters: they couldn’t be out-manoeuvred or bought off, and The Siren had so far been fortunate in that she had never yet faced a hurricane. As Joe started to scramble up the main mast’s rigging he muttered a quick prayer under his breath. Luck would always run out, sooner or later, and they certainly seemed to be out of it right now.

  
The ship lurched as he reached the yardarm, and Joe only just managed to wrap his arms around it in time. He looked over his shoulder and saw to his relief that Nico had managed to cling on as well, a mirror image to himself. They had both volunteered to take up these positions, the most perilous in a storm. If they were to fall they would at least come back. The rest of the crew didn’t have that luxury.

  
Inch by inch Joe set out across the yardarm, fingers fumbling with sodden ropes that tied the canvas to the mast. The sails had to come down if they had any chance of surviving this. If they caught the wind at the wrong angle they would be powerless, thrown into the mercy of the storm, and if the sails tore and they somehow survived they would be becalmed, which was as good as a death sentence. It seemed to take forever to release the sails, and Joe could barely feel his fingers by the end of it. He somehow made it back down to the deck without falling, though his good fortune ended as The Siren lurched yet again and the deck was pulled away from his feet.

  
A hand shot out to grab a hold of him, hauling him back upright and towards the mast. Joe wrapped his arms tightly around the ropes he found there and blinked furiously, trying to clear the water from his eyes so that he could see his saviour. It was Nico, of course, his mouth set in grim determination as he also tethered himself to the ship.

  
“Get below decks!” Anne shouted, closer to them than Joe had realised. She must have helped take the sails down. “There’s nothing more you can do.”

  
“What about you?” Nico shouted back.

  
“I’m staying. Quynh and I will steer. Now get below deck, that’s an order.”

  
Anne struggled away, pulling herself along back up to where Quynh was still valiantly at the wheel. Joe looked at Nico who nodded, once. Neither of them wanted to abandon their friends, but there was little they could do now that the sails were down. They had to time their run for the hatch with the waves, and just managed to slip inside as another wave came crashing down on deck. They didn’t speak a word as they fumbled their way to their cabin in pitch darkness, the lamps and candles all extinguished: why add the risk of fire to the danger they were already in?

  
Bed seemed like the safest place to stay, Joe decided, hoping that the thin blankets and pillows would offer some cushioning against the raging storm at least. He was glad they kept their cabin tidy, as it made the dark journey to their bunk much more straightforward than if, say, Anne and Quynh were trying to navigate their own cabin in the dark.

  
“How long do you think this will last?” Nico asked him as he fell rather than climbed into bed. He was usually unflappable in the face of danger, but the storm seemed to have set him particularly on edge.

  
“I wish I knew.” Joe said as he wrapped himself tightly around his lover in comfort. “You know, sometimes I-”

  
“Miss the Mediterranean Sea?” Nico laughed.

  
“Exactly.” Joe pressed a kiss to the top of Nico’s head. They’d never encountered a storm like this in the Mediterranean. It wasn’t as if the waters were always peaceful, but they definitely didn’t shake a ship around like the tropical storms in the Caribbean were proving to.

  
“We shouldn’t get too comfy: I imagine we’ll need to go and help bail soon.” Nico said after a tense few minutes as the ship rocked side to side and Joe tightened his grip on him, going so far as to lift one leg up and throw it over the Italian to keep him secure.

  
“We’ll be fine. I think it’s easing up now.” Joe replied, not releasing his hold on Nico. It was true: the winds had certainly died down, and they hadn’t been almost tossed from the bed in at least ten seconds.

  
“I’m not so sure.” Nico said, ever cautious.

  
“It’s fine.” Joe nosed into Nico’s hair, certain now that the worst of the storm had passed. “See? Almost back to normal.”

  
“Hmm.” Nico still didn’t seem convinced, and Joe could feel how tense he still was.

  
“Relax.” Joe whispered, peppering kisses along the parts of Nico’s face he could reach and stroking his arm soothingly. Bit by bit he felt the other man relax, until he was snuggling back into Joe.

  
“We should get out of these wet clothes.” Joe said reluctantly after a while. They were both soaked through, and staying dressed would do neither of them any good, but he was loathe to let go of Nico now that he had finally relaxed into his embrace.

  
“I suppose.” Nico agreed, moving away before Joe could protest. They stripped quickly, Nico fumbling through their chest for some dry clothes which he threw in the general direction of Joe on the bed. Joe had no intention of putting them on.

  
“Nico, amore, come back to bed.”

  
Nico didn’t reply, and Joe could picture him as clearly as if their cabin were lit: he would be standing there, toying with the clothes in his hands as he tried to decide whether he wanted to risk what Joe was proposing. A heartbeat later he had made up his mind, and joined Joe under the covers.

  
“This is a bad idea.” He said, or tried to say, for Joe had instantly sought out his lips with his own.

  
“Nonsense.” Joe nipped at Nico’s lower lip with his teeth, eliciting a low groan from his lover. “If the ship goes down, surely this is the best way to go with it.”

“Mmm.”

  
For all he protested, Nico was responding to Joe’s kisses and touches, and was soon running his hands all over Joe’s body, pulling him ever closer. When he finally wrapped a hand around Joe’s cock Joe let out a breath. The callouses on Nico’s palms had no right to feel as good as they did, and he bucked up into the touch. It was still as wonderful as it had been 600 years ago, and Joe surrendered himself fully to Nico’s hands.

  
The next thing he knew, he was unceremoniously flung from the bed and onto the floor as the ship seemed to jump several feet out of the sea.

  
“I knew it wasn’t over.” Nico huffed as he offered a hand out to help Joe clamber back into the bed. The ship was rocking again, the few minutes of calm they had experienced over as soon as they had started.

  
Joe really did miss the Mediterranean.


	3. The Captain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joe and Nico escape to explore an island, hoping to finally find some alone time together. But this is only chapter 3, so of course they don't.

“Just a bit further.” Nico called over his shoulder to Joe as they scrambled up a craggy hill that seemingly had no summit. They had been walking and climbing for what felt like close to an hour, and Joe was seriously starting to wonder if what was at the top was worth the trouble. Nico had found whatever it was the other day, out scouting for a fresh water source, and had returned with a smile and a plan to take Joe up there as soon as they were able. The crew were careening The Siren on the shore of a seemingly deserted island, taking shifts to clean her hull, and after a morning of work scraping and cleaning the two hadn’t been able to escape from the crowded beach fast enough. Joe had just rather been expecting whatever it was to be a lot closer.

“I’m sure it didn’t take you nearly this long yesterday.” Joe huffed as his handhold in the rock face crumbled into dust and he had to scrabble for another.

“I thought I’d take you the scenic route.” Nico glanced down and grinned at him, and that smile alone made the ascent worth it. That, and the marvellous view of Nico's arse that Joe got climbing up behind him.

“The scenic route is wherever you decide to walk in front of me.” Joe said, and laughed as Nico’s grin grew even wider. He was still so easy to flatter even after centuries of love.

“We would make faster time if you didn’t keep distracting me.” Nico chastised, though there wasn’t the slightest trace of malice in his tone. They both knew they were equally to blame for whatever distracting had transpired on their journey.

The sun was at its peak by the time they finally made it to the top, and Joe had to pause to wipe the sweat from his eyes before he could see what lay in front of them. When he could finally see he realised why Nico had been so eager to take him up there.

It was a waterfall. Another cliff stood further along the top of the hill, and from it a steady stream of water cascaded down the rocks into a pool below. The pool was shaded by densely packed trees, and the water was beautifully clear. It made Joe wish for the charcoal and paper in his cabin, but part of him was glad he did not have that distraction with him. He wanted to enjoy this moment.

“Worth it?” Nico asked with a slight smirk.

“More than worth it. I think I may have finally found a rival for your beauty, Nicolò.” Joe teased.

“I cannot disagree.” Nico held out his arms and Joe entered the embrace, taking it all in. The sound of the water, the fresh almost sweet smell of the trees, the warmth of Nico’s arms wrapped around him. It was perfect.

“Fancy a swim?” Nico murmured in his ear, and in that moment Joe couldn’t remember wanting anything more in his life.

They stripped quickly, racing each other into the wonderfully cool water. It was deeper than it looked, the ground below them falling away sharply as they waded out towards they waterfall, so they stayed in the shallows, washing away the morning’s dirt and sweat from each other. The rushing of the water drowned out the faint sounds of the crew on the beach far below, and Joe closed his eyes as he pulled Nico against his chest, and imagined that they were the only two men in the world.

“Thank you, my love.” Joe said as he kissed along the curve of Nico’s neck. Nico chuckled and tilted his head to one side, offering Joe greater access. They were waist deep in the water, and Nico started to thrust his hips backwards as Joe kissed him, grinding his arse against Joe, working his cock to full hardness.

“There’s something else I want to show you.” Nico said, just when he felt Joe start to move back in response. He pulled away and spun around to face Joe, carding a hand through his curls to pull him in for a deep kiss.

“We don’t have to climb another cliff, do we?” Joe asked when Nico finally gave him air to speak.

“You’ll see.” Nico gave Joe his half-smirk again as he waded back to the centre of the pool, switching from walking to swimming seamlessly.

Joe gave chase, the sound of the waterfall almost deafening as they swam closer to it, then trod water as he reached the foot of the cliff, waiting to see what was next. With a brief look behind him, Nico climbed up into the water and out of sight. There was a hidden cavern behind the waterfall. Joe grinned, and followed his lover up through the water.

He had expected Nico to be waiting for him behind the curtain of water, naked and wet and willing, and he was right on that account. What he hadn’t expected was to also find Anne and Quynh, equally naked but marginally less wet, hurriedly scrambling to their feet as they realised they had unexpected guests. None of them bothered to hide their nakedness: they had travelled for centuries together, after all, but there was a general sense of embarrassment in the air for all parties.

“This… how long… but you were on the beach when we left.” Nico stammered.

“We took the path- we assumed as we didn’t pass you that you two had found somewhere else to escape to.” Anne was on the verge of laughter, but the look of disappointment on Quynh’s face echoed that on Nico’s.

“That’s the last time I take the scenic route.” Nico groaned, as Joe laughed along with Anne at the situation. It seemed, lately, like some greater force was conspiring to ruin every quite moment he and Nico found.


	4. The Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Are you really making best use of the pirate setting if you don't have a fist fight in a brothel? Probably. But I wanted a fist fight in a brothel so here we are.

The prostitute was called Bartholomew. Bart, he insisted on being called, and though he was expensive Joe had been assured he was worth it. They’d done this a few times before, he and Nico, occasionally inviting another man to their bed for a change of pace. There were some pleasures that could only be reached with a second pair of hands, or another mouth, and their love for each other was so unshakeable that the introduction of a third person was no more a significant event than say, drinking a mug of beer after years of only drinking wine.

“The other- he is upstairs?” Bart asked as he finished haggling with Joe. “I hope he is as handsome as you.”

“He’s the most handsome man I’ve ever met.” Joe answered honestly, having to stop himself from describing Nico’s beauty in further detail. Bart would see for himself, soon enough.

He led Bart up the stairs to the room he and Nico were renting, pointedly ignoring the whistles and cheers that came from Andy and Quynh from their corner of the inn. Nico was reading on their bed when they entered; he was still clothed, despite knowing what Joe had gone downstairs for, arguing that first impressions were best made _not_ naked, even when prostitutes were involved.

“What do you think, Nico?” Joe wrapped his arms around Bart to show him off to the Italian. “This lovely young man here says he’s willing to do _anything_ with us. Shall we take turns? Take him together? He could take you whilst you’re inside me.”

“So many options.” Nico laughed, carefully stowing his book in the cupboard by the bed before settling down on the bed and spreading his legs in practised expectation.

“I think I know how to start.” Joe decided, crawling onto the bed and capturing Nico’s lips in a kiss. Nico responded instantly, his hands coming up to pull at Joe’s shirt and run his fingers up his back.

Joe gestured for Bart to join them on the bed, and pulled the man in for a kiss, inches from Nico’s face. Bart was a good kisser, but it didn’t feel quite right. It never did when it was someone other than his Nicolò, but the way Nico’s breath hitched as he watched Joe kiss the other man reminded him why he was doing this. Their kiss was brief, and when they parted Joe threaded a hand through Bart’s hair and guided him across to Nico’s mouth.

With his lover occupied, Joe seized the opportunity to move down his body and untie his breeches, pulling them down and off his legs. Nico wasn’t hard yet, not quite, and so Joe took him in his mouth, delighting in how Nico moaned against Bart’s lips as he was swallowed all the way down. He loved how Nico’s cock pulsed and stiffened inside his mouth, and by the time Joe had finished his own cock was hard and pressing almost painfully against his breeches.

“Here.” Joe gently tugged Bart’s shoulder to pull him away, then gestured for him to take his place between Nico’s legs. As the man set to work Joe moved to straddle Nico, his crotch perfectly aligned with Nico’s mouth. He raised an eyebrow in silent question, and Nico responded by reaching out to pull Joe closer to him, mouthing at his cock through the fabric of his breeches, the little groans Bart was working out of him sending wonderful vibrations through Joe.

“Yes.” Joe breathed as Nico raised his hands to fumble at the ties of his trousers, and had just closed his eyes to better enjoy the moment when a gunshot rang out.

“Ya lahwy!” Nico swore as he tried to scramble out of the bed, the two bodies above him hindering his process somewhat. He ran to the door, not even stopping to dress, and poked his head out onto the landing.

“What is it?” Joe hurriedly pulled his own trousers and shirt on, fumbling with the fastenings as Nico withdrew from the door. Bart seemed remarkably unfazed by the shots and screams coming from downstairs, and seemed as if he would have been happy to continue had his bed partners not decided to get dressed.

“I can’t tell, not from up here, but it’s the others. I saw Quynh elbow a man in the face, but that was Anne’s gun that went off.”

Joe didn’t ask how Nico could tell the sound of Anne’s gun apart from any others. He doubted even Nico would be able to put it into words.

“Are you still going to pay?” Bart asked, languishing back on the now vacant bed as Nico set about gathering his clothes together.

“Half.” Joe replied, fishing a few coins out and tossing them in the general direction as he ran out of the door. It was probably closer to the full amount than half, but he didn’t much care. He could see the chaos more clearly as he hopped down the stairs, hand on his sword. It looked like Anne’s shot had been a warning shot, as no one seemed injured, and everyone involved in the scuffle seemed to be unarmed. He pushed his way through the crowd to where Anne and Quynh were trading blows with several burly pirates.

“We can handle this.” Quynh said amicably, barely out of breath as she dodged a furious fist that would have connected right in her temple. “You can go back to Nico.”

“What _is_ this?” Joe asked as he caught the arm of the man who had tried to hit Quynh and twisted until the man cried and his arm went limp. It was too late to turn back, no matter how under control Quynh said things were: Nico was already running down the stairs to join in, and whatever moment they had was unrecoverable.

“Someone-” Anne grunted, somehow finding the space to kick a man square in the chest, “tried to place their hands where they weren’t wanted, and took issue when his fingers were broken as a consequence.”

“And that someone had a whole crew with him?” Joe asked as he and Quynh worked together to trip up another of the men.

“More like half a crew, given the quality of these louts.” Anne grabbed a jug from a nearby table and smashed it over one of the pirate’s heads.

The next few minutes passed in a blur of kicks and fists, Nico and Joe forming a mirror pair to Anne and Quynh as they split into two smaller groups, each watching the other’s backs. At some point swords were drawn, and with that development the men who had harassed Anne and Quynh surrendered. Joe gave Nico a quick glance over as he sheathed his sword: only bruises, it looked like, bruises that were already fading. He met Nico’s eye and laughed: he had been performing the same check on Joe, even though the fight had been relatively tame by their standards.

“I need another drink.” Anne picked up the jug she had used to hit one of the men with and held it high in the air, dangling it from her fingers. No one made a move to take it, the few serving girls exchanging scared looks with each other until eventually the madam of the establishment swept over to them in a wave of skirts and perfume.

“I think you’ve drunk quite enough.” She said sternly, managing to present a more intimidating front than the near entire crew of men had just before. “And if you wish to drink more, it will not be in my establishment.”

Nico snorted at the outraged look on Anne’s face, and the madam rounded on him.

“That includes you two as well.” She said, transferring her glare over to Joe as she spoke.

“But-” Joe protested, about to say he and Nico had only been trying to defend their companions, but she silenced him with a single arched eyebrow.

Well. It looked like they’d have to find another lodging for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dad lived in Egypt for a while but I'll be damned if I ask him for Arabic phrases, mostly because that involves talking to him, so the one singular phrase in this is brought to you by the internet. If anyone knows better swears/exclamations do tell me. Be my new dad.


	5. The Crew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crew get up to some actual pirating in this one, can you believe.

The slaver was slow. They always were, the merchants so greedy for profit they loaded as many bodies as they could fit into the hold, causing the ship to sit low and heavy in the water.

Slow meant easy to catch.

The Siren caught up easily, drawing alongside under the pretence of being a British ship. They had made a habit of taking the colours from each ship they captured- British, Spanish, Dutch. They could be anyone.

“We’re an escort.” Anne signalled across the water. With her hair tied back and her trousers they would mistake her for a man, helping keep their ruse going for longer. Taking a slaver was tricky business: the usual weapons of cannons and guns were useless when the main aim was to free the men and women held below decks. Other weapons had to be used: cunning and deception.

The Siren edged closer to the slaver as they communicated to each other, until Joe could make out the individual men standing on the deck. He tensed, waiting for Anne’s signal, and no sooner had he prepared then Anne let out a yell loud enough to be heard all along the ship.

“Grapples!” She shouted, and on cue a dozen grapples were launched over and onto the slaver, gouging stripes out of the woodwork as they were pulled taught, anchoring the two ships together.

The crew of The Siren moved quickly, lifting boarding ladders and planks up from where they were hidden. Joe, Nico and Anne were the first to board the ship, leading the charge and bearing the brunt of the musket fire. Quynh covered them from the crow’s nest, still preferring to use her bow rather than a gun due to the faster reloading time.

Within seconds there was carnage everywhere. Joe was almost certain he never died, though he took enough bullets that he wasn’t entirely sure. The deck of the slaver soon ran red with blood, and almost as quickly as it had started it ended, the crew comprising mostly of press-ganged men unwilling to lose their lives over their cargo.

“Joe.” Nico’s voice was clear over the shouting and cries, and Joe turned to face him. Nico sheathed his sword and gestured to the hatch that led to below the deck, and Joe nodded. They had the ship. Now they had to free the men.

There were a few stragglers in the crew's quarters, but they were men who had not wanted to fight in the first place, and they offered no resistance at all as Joe and Nico made their way down to the cargo deck. It was dark down there, so dark Joe had to turn back and find a lantern to light their way as Nico hacked through the lock that kept them separated from the men.

It never got any easier, that first step into the slave hold. It still sickened Joe to see the extent of man’s greed, all the suffering and pain caused just for the chance of a bit more gold. He hung the lantern on a hook as he and Nico set about breaking open chains, murmuring comforting words in English and numerous African languages in the hopes they would find one that the men and women understood.

Many of the men were too weak to stand, and Joe shouted for more of the Siren crew to come and help carry them up out of the hold. The first step was always to get them into the light, into the fresh air.

Once they were fed, their wounds tended to and their dead properly mourned, they were given a choice. Either safe passage back to their homes or settling in Nassau. There was a sizeable community of ex-slaves on Nassau now, taking on new lives as farmers and traders under the protection of Anne and the pirate crews who had sworn allegiance to her. Some men (and women) even decided to join the crew of the Siren, on occasion. That day proved to be one such instance, one of the men standing up as Anne finished her speech.

“I wish to fight with Captain Blackbeard.” The man said in heavily accented English. His legs were still somewhat unsteady, but he refused the arm Nico offered him.

“Blackbeard?” Anne frowned. “Blackbeard is long dead.”

“Captain Blackbeard.” The man insisted, this time pointing at Joe.

“He did look rather like you.” Quynh agreed. “Maybe he was a distant relative?”

“I’m not Blackbeard.” Joe told the man, unsure whether to be offended or flattered by the misunderstanding. “I’m just Joseph.”

“Joseph Blackbeard.” The man said, smiling. “I am Waaiz. Myself and some others: we wish to join you. To help free others.”

Joe shot a despairing look at Anne, who was trying very hard not to laugh. She forced herself to look serious as she chewed her lip in thought.

“Perhaps it’s time you took control of your own ship.” She said after a moment. “We can hunt in a pair. With these men we’d have enough for two decent sized crews now.”

“You and Nico could take turns being captain.” Quynh added, a smile on her face.

“I like it.” Nico shrugged. “Though I’d say our first act as captains should be to trade this beast for a better ship.”

Joe agreed. The slaver was not only a slow hulk of a ship, but she was tarnished with both blood and memories that neither he nor the recently freed slaves would want reminding of. The more he thought about it the more he liked the idea: he and Nico with their own ship, sailing side by side with Anne and Quynh. They’d finally have the Captain’s cabin to themselves, too.

“Alright.” Joe decided. “But we’ll keep some of The Siren’s crew here for the journey to Nassau. Give the new recruits some time to find their sea-legs.”

“So we can stay and fight?” Waaiz asked, having managed to follow most of their conversation.

“You can.”

“Excellent.” Waaiz grinned and turned to face the men. “We fight with Captain Blackbeard!” He shouted in Arabic, then repeated the same words in Somali and a cheer went up amongst them.

“Old Edward will be turning in his grave at this.” Joe muttered to Nico, coming to the sinking realisation that it would be near impossible to shake the name now. His suspicion proved true, the crew of The Siren even jokingly referring to him as Blackbeard as well which of course only made matters worse. Well. Perhaps rumours that the ghost of Blackbeard was hunting down slavers could help them in the long run.

Anne and Quynh eventually left to rejoin The Siren, and both ships set sail for Nassau. Most of the freed men were still too weak to help sail the ship, but many of them watched, and called out questions in a number of different languages that were translated back and forwards between the crews.

“What now?” Joe asked once the novelty of setting a course and communicating it to the crew had worn off. There was only so much to do as captain during the relatively short journey to Nassau.

“I think,” Nico said, moving close to Joe so no one else could hear, “I want the captain of this fine ship to tear all my clothes off.”

“It would be my honour.” Joe couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face. He allowed Nico to take him by the hand and pull him into the captain’s cabin.

It was a heavily decorated cabin, tables and cabinets and chests taking up most of the floor space. There were several shelves of books and ledgers, and Joe made a mental note to go through them all at some point. Some point later. Now though, he had Nico pulling him across the room towards the impressively large bed, and the books could wait.

“Oh this is nice.” Nico grinned as he fell back onto the plump mattress, pulling Joe down on top of him.

“The bed? Or me?” Joe teased as he settled himself between Nico’s legs.

“The bed.” Nico said solemnly. “’Nice’ doesn’t do you justice in the slightest.”

“Oh?” Joe asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’d say ‘remarkable’.” Nico pulled him down for a kiss. “Gorgeous, perhaps.” Another kiss. “Perfection, even.”

“Do go on.” Joe chuckled, gently pressing down so he and Nico were flush together. Nico rolled his eyes, though he was still smiling.

“You are my entire world.” He said softly. “I can’t say it any better than that.”

“And you don’t have to.” Joe kissed Nico again, then moved to nip at his earlobe, pulling on the gold hoop there until he elicited a low moan from his lover. He did it again, prompting the same reaction, but was stopped from trying a third time by Nico applying pressure on his chest, pushing him off.

“I thought you were going to tear my clothes off.” Nico said slyly, giving Joe a look that turned his insides to molten lava. Joe's mouth went dry and it seemed to take an awful lot of coordination to reply with a simple:

“As you wish.”

Joe ran his hands up Nico’s chest, coming to rest at the neck of his shirt, and after a second of silently hoping the ship’s previous captain had some spare clothes in his cabin grabbed the fabric in both hands and tore it neatly in two. The noise that came from Nico’s mouth as he did was delicious, as was the way he bucked up into Joe and pulled him down into a furious kiss. They floundered for a moment, as even though the front of the shirt was ripped Nico still had to struggle out of the sleeves, but then they were on each other again, legs tangling and hands roaming _everywhere_.

Nico had just lodged his hand down the front of Joe’s breeches when someone banged on the door.

“Captain?” A voice called out in between the banging. “Bit of trouble below decks, captain, would appreciate some support.”

The voice belonged to Charlotte, one of The Siren’s crew who had stayed behind to help sail the slaver. It took a lot to shake her, but there was a definite hint of urgency in her voice.

“One day.” Joe muttered as he extracted himself from Nico’s legs. “One day we’ll finally get some peace.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next and final chapter will take an actual age as I spend hours in indecision trying to work out what, exactly, Joe and Nicky would christen their own pirate ship.


	6. The Cabin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's here. You know what this means. Finally.

She was called The Phoenix, and she was magnificent. She was a brig, much smaller than the slaver had been but much swifter, and newly fitted with fresh sails and flag. Joe had painted the flag himself: a stylised bird spreading its wings above a crossed scimitar and longsword. He was more than a little proud of it.

The crew were also proving to be just as good as the ship, the mis-match of men from the Siren and those rescued from slavers proving to work together magnificently. Many of the men were from the Barbary coast, and had been delighted when they had found out that the dread Captain Blackbeard (as Joe was still unfortunately called) was a Muslim; Joe was equally pleased that he now had others to join him in prayer, something until recently he had carried out alone.

The issue of the mistaken identity still haunted Joe. Though he had finally managed to explain once and for all that he wasn’t _the_ Blackbeard, the crew still referred to him as such. It was a minor issue, yes, but one that Joe impulsively decided to try and correct one day by shaving off his beard. He realised too late that he should have told Nico of his plans beforehand, after the Italian tripped over his own feet upon entering their cabin and seeing a freshly beardless Joe waiting for him.

“I can’t remember the last time I saw your chin.” Nico said in wonder as he reached a hand out to stroke Joe’s face, over the initial shock. “Is this because of the Blackbeard issue?”

Joe grunted.

“I like it.” Nico cupped Joe’s cheek in his hand, his thumb rubbing circles into the freshly shaved skin. “There’s more for me to kiss now.” To prove his point he leant in, and kissed a line from Joe’s mouth out towards his ear, then back along to his chin following the shape of his jaw.

“Perhaps I should have shaved earlier.” Joe laughed, enjoying how Nico couldn’t stop touching him.

“No, I like the beard too. Perhaps you could alternate?” Nico said as he held Joe’s chin and turned his face slightly, admiring how he looked from all angles.

“Or shave half my face. Down the middle.”

“Hmm.” Nico held his hand up against one side of Joe’s face and squinted, pretending to visualise it. “It could be an improvement.” he teased, before leaning in for another kiss.

The kiss soon grew heated, Joe tangling his hands in Nico’s hair to angle his mouth just right, and Nico responding by slotting a leg between Joe’s own, placing a delicious pressure on his groin.

“Shall we?” Joe asked, somewhat breathlessly.

“Yes.” Nico agreed instantly. “But we should be quick.” He added, dropping to his knees without preamble. “These moments are proving hard to come by recently.”

Joe wanted to say something, to agree, but Nico had pulled his breeches down just enough to get his mouth around the tip of his cock and suddenly the only noise Joe could make was a needy moan. Nico had not been joking when he said they should be quick: in one fluid movement he had swallowed Joe all the way down, skipping any and all teasing and build-up. He felt amazing, his throat constricting around the head of Joe’s cock and his tongue caressing the length as his head bobbed up and down. It was sloppy, it was frantic, and it was so _good_ all Joe could do was scrabble uselessly for a hold on Nico’s shoulders as his lover pulled his release from him.

Nico looked extremely pleased with himself as he stood up, running his thumb across his cheek to catch the remains of Joe’s spend before pointedly sucking it clean, never once breaking eye contact with Joe.

“ _That_ was so if we get interrupted later at least we’ll have had something.” He said.

“Later?” Joe asked, his post-orgasm mind struggling to keep up.

“I’m not done with you yet, captain.” The way Nico said the word “captain” sent sparks through Joe’s body: he recognised that tone of voice. It was the voice Nico only used when it was just the two of them, when he had _plans_ for Joe.

Sure enough, Nico took Joe by the hand and pulled him over to the bed, dragging him down onto the mattress with a ferocity he hadn’t shown in a while. As he draped himself over Joe in order to kiss and suck at his neck there was no hiding how hard he was, how much he wanted Joe. Despite his own evident need, Nico seemed more focused on undressing Joe slowly, striping away layer after layer and lavishing attention on each new patch of skin that was revealed as they went. Eventually, Joe was spread out naked on their bed while Nico remained fully clothed, gazing down at him with eyes darkened by a mixture of adoration and sheer lust.

It seemed like an age before Nico finally spoke: “Roll over.”

Joe obliged, guessing what was coming next, and preemptively pushing a pillow down under his hips to raise his arse slightly. Nico made a noise of approval, running his hands up Joe’s legs and digging into the muscles of his thighs, working away the tension there. As he moved further and further up, Joe’s heart-rate increased, waiting for the first touch as Nico reached his arse and rubbed it as he had rubbed his legs, hands moving ever inward until the first brush of Nico’s thumb against his hole had him releasing a breath he’d been holding for too long.

Joe had been expecting Nico to reach for the oil then, but instead felt the other man shift behind him, followed by Nico’s hands gently spreading him apart as he delved in with his tongue. Joe didn’t know how Nico had the patience to go so _slowly_ when he hadn’t even come yet, but he was in no position to argue. Nico knew exactly what Joe liked, knew how to alternate long flat licks over the rim with sharp quick jabs inside, knew when to add a finger to reach even deeper.

“That’s wonderful.” Joe breathed as Nico worked a second finger inside, spreading Joe apart to lick in further. His cock was filling up again, hardening beneath him as he instinctively bucked his hips and pushed back on Nico’s wonderful tongue. “I could come again just like this.” He added, just to see what the reaction from his lover would be.

The reaction, to Joe’s delight, was Nico withdrawing his fingers with a growl and flipping Joe over so that he was on his back.

“I’m sure you could.” Nico agreed, finally taking off his own clothes. “But you won’t. Not tonight.”

“Oh?” Joe raised an eyebrow and grinned. “How do you intend for me to come, then?”

Nico didn’t respond, instead reaching across the bed and into one of the drawers of the cabinet that stood by the headboard. He retrieved their vial of oil and started to coat his fingers, moving back to settle himself between Joe’s legs once he was ready.

“Ah, I’m to come on your fingers.”

Joe spread his legs even further as Nico dipped his hand down, the first two fingers entering him easily. Joe groaned at the sensation, not being able to help clamping down around the intrusion, and Nico not being able to help his own answering groan at the sight.

“No, not on my fingers.”

“Hmm.” Joe pretended to think, though it was hard to keep up such an act when Nico was rubbing against the exact spot that caused him to see stars. “If I’m not to come on your tongue, or on your fingers, what else could it be?”

Nico huffed, rubbing a third finger around Joe’s rim before pushing in. As much as he could load an innocent word with enough hidden meaning to set Joe on fire, he was always somewhat reticent with being more explicit. Joe loved teasing him about it, viewing it as a challenge to get his wonderful Nicolò to say the dirtiest things.

“Help me out here, amore, tell me what you have planned.” Joe gasped as Nico curled his fingers, causing him to arch off the bed before falling back onto the mattress.

“You know what.” Nico nipped at the inside of Joe’s thigh, leaving a mark that vanished almost immediately.

“I don’t, darling, you’ll have to tell me.” Joe said, though really all he wanted to do was beg for Nico to fuck him already.

“You’ll come on my cock.” Nico ground out, pulling his fingers out from Joe and ignoring the noise of loss he made. He quickly oiled himself up then positioned himself at Joe’s entrance, not quite pushing in yet. “You’ll come when I’m deep inside you, when you’re so far gone you won’t even remember where we are, who can hear you.”

Joe moaned at that, loving the desperation in Nico’s voice, the pure need in his eyes. He moaned again when Nico finally pushed in, slotting into place so perfectly it almost made him want to cry.

Nico was right: Joe soon forgot his surroundings, everything outside the four corners of their bed melting away into insignificance. All that mattered was the man on top of him, the man inside him, choking on words in all number of languages as he worked himself towards his peak. Joe only just had the presence of mind to reach a hand down between them, to take a hold of his own cock and strip it in time with Nico’s thrusts. It didn’t take long until he was coming again, shouting as he spilled onto his stomach and triggering Nico’s own release.

They couldn’t move for a while after, both men too tired and satisfied to do anything but lazily clutch at each other.

“That was…” Joe started, but for once couldn’t quite find the words to finish.

“Needed.” Nico supplied, and Joe laughed. It was. It was most definitely needed.

**Author's Note:**

> Part of me toyed with having Joe actually being Blackbeard, because I've always interpreted Blackbeard as being a POC, but honestly as opportunistic as I am Joe does not deserve that because Blackbeard was a bastard man and Joe is The Best.  
> Andy is 100% Anne Bonny in this though, only less ginger.


End file.
